


The Blood of the Covenant

by MirrorMystic



Series: Among Eagles [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Action/Adventure, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Homophobia, Multi, Pre-Poly, Space Opera, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: How far would you go for the people you love?Would you fight? Would you die? Would you kill?For their lost comrade, the crew of the Sparrow will have to go very far, indeed-- into the heart of mafia territory, and beyond, out into the desolate, sun-baked wastes of Hypnos.The Blood Pact sorcerer, Father Cyrus, seeks the power that had long lain dormant in Aabha’s veins. Inside Aabha’s blood burns a fire beyond mortal men, and it’s a fire that Cyrus intends to put to good use.In the fading light, Aabha’s power shines like a star-- but her strength isn’t the power in her veins. It’s the people who would do anything to bring her home, even as the sun sets and she slips further and further away…





	The Blood of the Covenant

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard you guys like found family feels, huh? ;)
> 
> We're back, and with the finale of this particular story arc. I couldn't be more thrilled to present it. I hope you all enjoy the read!
> 
> Content warning: Like "The Exchange", the action in this installment gets a *lot* bloodier than usual. In addition to that, there are also references to homophobic parents, and a forced outing that turns violent. Please, proceed with care.

~*~  
  
Darkness filled the Sparrow infirmary. It wasn’t toxic and dreadful, filled with chittering insects and gnashing teeth. It was soft, soothing, and restful, cut through with violet nebulae and shivering with stars.  
  
Morgan lay, engulfed in starlight. Jaki stood at his bedside, the night sky pulled over his hands as if it were gloves. Tendrils of shadow snaked from his fingertips and into the myriad cuts and gashes covering Morgan’s form, splayed out like the roots of a great tree. A gentle white light shone from the ankh around Jaki’s neck. Wisps of white coiled around shadow, mingling and entwining and pulling Morgan’s wounds closed, sealed with a violet glow. Morgan fidgeted, restless, in his sleep.  
  
Syl watched from the infirmary window as Jaki went about his work in his usual serene silence. She had one arm folded across her chest, the other propping her chin up on her hands. Stoic. Professional.  
  
Crane materialized beside her. Their eyes met, and divulged a host of feeling in a single glance. Syl’s emotions rarely made it to the rest of her body, but they always started in her eyes. They turned back to watching Morgan in the window.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking,” Crane said, which was an oh-so-Crane way of starting a conversation.  
  
“I’ll thank you to ask before reading me,” Syl said, with the barest of smiles.  
  
“It doesn’t take a psychic, Syl,” Crane murmured. She nodded to Morgan, tossing and turning in his sleep. “...You think you let them down. You think you failed them.”  
  
Syl’s expression clouded. Her hand wandered under her collar and closed around a little glass vial on a braided leather cord.  
  
“Didn’t I?” Syl said softly. “I was out of position. If I had been there, then maybe…”  
  
A frown flicked across Crane’s lips. She decided against reminding Syl that the reason she was out of position was because, when Aabha, Morgan, and Kit were getting ambushed, Syl was halfway across the city saving Crane and the Chase sisters from an ambush of their own.  
  
Crane decided to change tack. “Do you remember what I used to call you?”  
  
“You used to call me a lot of things back in Academy,” Syl said, dryly amused. “”Junior’. ‘Tough girl’. ‘Syl, Syl, oh _gods_ , Syl…’”  
  
“That was _one_ time!” Crane hissed, mortified.  
  
“Really?” Syl smiled. “I counted at _least_ three or four.”  
  
Crane rolled her eyes and playfully punched Syl in the arm, quietly appreciating the cut of her arms under her coat.  
  
“Those were the days, huh?” Crane said, wistful. “Of course, then you and Morgan went into field training, and I got snapped up by Order Intelligence…”  
  
“Yes, how’s that _desk_ treating you?” Syl teased.  
  
“Hush,” Crane huffed, though she was glad she was still able to coax a smile out of Syl at a time like this.  
  
It didn’t last long. Syl watched Morgan sleeping fitfully under Jaki’s care, pressing her lips into a line. Crane studied her face, cast in the violet glow of Jaki’s power.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking,” Crane echoed. “You think you should be the one out there, leading the search. You think we’re giving up on her.”  
  
“We’re not,” Syl said firmly. “Robyn’s in the control room with Lily right now. They’ll figure something out.”  
  
“Come on, Syl,” Crane insisted. “You’re a soldier. I’m a spy. But we both wear the crest of the Order, and that means something. We are the watchmen, those who stand sentinel against the shadow, the soldiers in the secret war. Now, your junior is in the clutches of not just one, but two criminal organizations. Her life should be in _our_ hands, not the hands of mercenaries and cutthroats.”  
  
Syl shot her a look. She took a deep breath, and shook her head.  
  
“...Listen, Tabby. This is your first night on the Sparrow, so let me just say this once: Robyn and Lily aren’t just hired guns. Robyn’s been with me since the beginning, and though I haven’t known Lily very long, she’s proven herself to be one of the bravest young women I know. I trust them, _both_ of them, with my life.”  
  
“Sure,” Crane said gently. “But do you trust them with hers?”  
  
~*~  
  
Just down the hall, in the control room, Yuna was keeping her own vigil, watching over Robyn and Lily as they pored over the holoterminal. Before them, a schematic projection of the EXC building rose from the central dais like a tiered cake made of light. Off to the side, the dossier compiled by Order Intelligence formed a stream of cascading data, falling like rain.  
  
The Esoteric Xenobiology Center, or EXC, was the primary front company of The Exchange, a criminal organization specializing in trafficking and organ harvesting. The dual spires of EXC Tower here in Trance City together formed one of their major trafficking centers. Captives came in under the guise of medical patients or research subjects before being shipped underground and sold at one of the Exchange’s infamous Market Days, whether whole or in pieces.  
  
The sheer audacity of it made Robyn’s lips curl with disgust. Part of her knew she shouldn’t be surprised. This far out in the Rim, this was gang territory. These systems were dominated by organized crime, and the Order held little sway-- a fact that especially rankled her now.  
  
“All entry to EXC Tower is through Spire One,” Lily was saying, tapping at the display. “They have a skycar garage up top, and pedestrian access down below.”  
  
“Probably because Spire One doesn’t have anything they want to hide,” Robyn muttered. “All their dirty laundry’s in Spire Two. Look at this.”  
  
Robyn reached into the display and zoomed in to the roof of Spire One.  
  
“Up here, tucked in with the smokestacks. They have anti-air batteries concealed by the upper landing pads. They were tracking you when Syl flew you in earlier. A Remora, even the Sparrow herself, won’t last long under sustained fire if they _really_ don’t want to let us in.”  
  
“And that wouldn’t even be the worst part,” Lily said. She reached in and shifted the display over to the central bridge connecting the two spires. “This bridge is the big problem. Anyone and everyone entering Spire Two has to cross via this bridge. It’s a forced bottleneck, easily monitored and defended. Just a long walk with no cover.”  
  
“Sounds like a challenge,” Robyn grinned.  
  
“Sounds like suicide,” someone muttered.  
  
They looked up. Vincent was leaning against the doorway, nonchalantly studying his fingernails. Lily bristled.  
  
“Y’know, Vince, there’s a saying, in times like these. ‘No one gets left behind’. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”  
  
“Well, all you’re going to leave are your bodies on their nice carpet,” Vincent said, flippant. Lily glowered at him, and he shrugged. “Look, we already managed to get Morgan back. Maybe it’s time we cut our losses and ran.”  
  
“What, like _you_ did?” Lily snapped.  
  
“I’m just saying, there’s nothing noble about staying on a sinking ship,” Vincent said, holding his hands up. “I walked out on the Syndicate because I knew a dead end when I saw one. Maybe this is a dead end, t-- Whoa, hey! Hey!”  
  
Lily grabbed Vincent by his shirt and slammed him against the wall.  
  
“That’s my friend in there,” Lily hissed, her jaw tight. “Aabha’s my _friend_ , and you will show her some goddamn respect.”  
  
“Lily…” Robyn warned.  
  
Yuna gently placed a hand on Lily’s shoulder. Lily growled and threw Vincent towards the holoterminal. He tripped and fell against the display, the EXC building’s luminous form clipping through his suit jacket and his rumpled shirt. He glowered up at her, cast in hololithic light.  
  
“This is not a dead end,” Lily snapped. “Aabha’s alive. She’s alive and in the hands of some cultist _freakshow_ , and _we’re_ going to get her _back!_ ”  
  
“You’re going to get yourself killed!” Vincent shot back. “You, and every other goddamn _hero_ on this ship who doesn’t know when to let it go!”  
  
_“Enough!”_  
  
Silence descended. It wasn’t often that Robyn raised her voice.  
  
“Mr. Capello,” Robyn began, low and threatening. “I don’t recall inviting you into my war room. Out.”  
  
Vincent nodded meekly and slipped out, shooting a venomous look at Lily over his shoulder.  
  
“Lily,” Robyn continued. “Take a walk.”  
  
“What?” Lily whirled around in protest. “But captain, you heard what he said--”  
  
“I did,” Robyn snapped. “I have working ears. Do _you_?”  
  
Lily fumed. She huffed, and strode out the door, Yuna watching her fretfully as she went.  
  
The hatch to her room slid closed, and Lily stood in the threshold for a long moment, just staring at the inside of the hatch. She took a deep breath, and counted to ten in her head.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Lily turned, and gasped.  
  
Kit was sitting on her bed. She was slumped forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin resting in her hands. Exhaustion and worry tugged at her face, only made more apparent by her hollow, haunting eyes.  
  
Lily would have expected anger. Restlessness. But seeing Kit so tired, so _defeated_ …  
  
Lily took a seat on Kit’s bed beside her, Kit just staring forward into nothing, lost in herself.  
  
“Kit,” Lily said softly. “Kit. Hey.”  
  
Lily tugged one of Kit’s hands out from under her chin. Kit slumped, limp, into Lily’s shoulder, whimpering and stubbornly swiping her arm over her eyes. Lily laced their fingers together with a squeeze.  
  
“Don’t you bail on me, Kit,” Lily whispered, resolute. “It’s not over yet.”  
  
Back in the control room, Robyn was hunched over the holoterminal, staring into the luminous projection until it made her eyes hurt. Yuna lingered nearby. She reached for Robyn, before hesitating, and pulling away.  
  
“Captain,” Yuna said gently.  
  
“That bit about the ears was insensitive, wasn’t it?” Robyn mumbled, distracted. “Given Shanti’s deaf, and all.”  
  
“Captain,” Yuna pressed, “Vincent may have a point.”  
  
Robyn blew out a sigh. She pushed herself off the central dais and pulled off her hat, raking her fingers through her hair.  
  
“They both do,” Robyn sighed. “I want to get Aabha back just as much as anyone. But we’re not cracking that building on our own.”  
  
“Order operatives have the authority to commandeer Planetary Defense,” Yuna urged. “Is there any chance of us getting backup from the PDF Garrison? Perhaps if we requested aid from Captain Bowen?”  
  
“Captain Bowen and his guys already have their hands full dealing with the Syndicate manhunt-- a manhunt that _we_ started,” Robyn said. “If we run roughshod over the PDF, with everything they already have on their plate, we're gonna ruin any goodwill we have left.”  
  
Robyn sighed, setting her hat back on her head.  
  
“...Besides, Yuna, let’s be real. We’re out in the Rim. This is gang territory. The Exchange didn’t think twice about kidnapping two Order operatives. They run this place, and they know it.”  
  
“...Oh,” Yuna said softly. She hung her head, wringing her hands. Robyn reached out, beckoning, and curled an arm around Yuna’s waist.  
  
“This time…” Robyn murmured, lifting her gaze to the luminous form of EXC Spire Two. “This time, we’re on our own. Just like Aabha.”  
  
~*~  
  
Aabha sat, cuffed to her chair in the testing chamber at EXC Tower. Outside, Hypnos’ sun was peaking over Trance City, bathing the city in its harsh, brilliant light. But that light failed to penetrate EXC Tower, dimmed by the barrier over the city, further by the EXC Tower’s tinted glass, and, finally, by the foul, toxic magic that pooled on the floor of the testing chamber.  
  
Father Cyrus’ shadow had grown to encompass the whole of the floor, save for a small halo around Aabha’s feet.  
  
Aabha was exhausted, her hair stringy with sweat and clinging to her forehead. Her clothes were in tatters, shredded over the course of relentless testing. But a fire burned in her still, a fire that sealed her myriad wounds with golden light and flickered faintly just above her form, keeping Cyrus’ creeping shadow at bay.  
  
To the eyes of Exchange Overseer Harken and the dozen troopers ringing the room, the sight was only mildly unsettling, not too out of the ordinary. But there was an entire world not meant for non-magical eyes, a world of shifting, charcoal-gray shadows and brilliant, colored lights.  
  
In the shadowed world of astral space, Aabha shone like a star. She was a petrified flame, a bonfire bound in luminous crystal, shining crimson and gold. Dark patterns spun lazily around her like gyroscopic rings; spells written in deep violet and midnight blue, magicks that Aabha did not recognize. Aabha wasn’t formally trained in astral sight; her fire magic was firmly grounded in the physical world, meant solely for practical combat. She’d never spent much time looking at anything in astral space, much less her own aura. Even now, she paid little mind to the strange magic imprinted on her aura. All her attention was on the sorcerer, her captor, filling the charcoal gray of the In-Between with frothy, corrosive darkness.  
  
There was a chime, like distant bells. Aabha flinched as voices filled the darkness, colors flashing across her eyes…  
  
_“Young lady. You will apologize, right now.”_ _  
__  
__She scowls, and stares at the floor. The boy across the room glowers at her, a cool compress held against his cheek. In the corner, an outdated air conditioner chugs away, fighting the lingering summer heat. The heat is sticky, and stifling, but not nearly as stifling as being under her mother’s gaze._ _  
__  
__“Apologize!” Dipti Puri barks. Aabha lifts her gaze to her father, Anand, who can’t quite meet her eyes._ _  
__  
__“He started it,” Aabha insists. “He was pulling Amalia’s hair, and being mean, and-”_ _  
__  
__The slap echoes in the confines of the room. Aabha balls her fists, blinking back tears._ _  
__  
__“None of your excuses!” Dipti snaps. “_ ** _Apologize_** _!”_ _  
__  
_ Aabha blinked the memory away. A ghost of pain lingered in her cheek, and she glared through the phantom of her mother at Cyrus beyond, mirroring her mother’s imperious gaze.  
  
“I don’t know what you want from me…” Aabha growled, through gritted teeth. “I’m just a mage. A _human_ mage!”  
  
Cyrus tsked, shaking his head. “Your blood says otherwise, child, and blood can hold no secrets. Your stubborn denial is growing tiresome, and yet… now I understand why. What exactly did the mind sculptors _do_ to you, child?”  
  
Tendrils of shadow snaked from Cyrus’ form and coiled around the violet spell circles bound around Aabha’s aura. They twisted and turned with infinite care, as if scrutinizing the tumblers in a lock. There was a click, and another chime--  
  
_A lazy summer evening. She’s sitting on the grass, watching the last colors of sunset dip under the trees. Amalia’s sitting behind her, braiding flowers into her hair._ _  
__  
__Amalia squeals with delight as the first fireflies begin blinking in the darkness. Her smile makes something bloom in Aabha chest, and she thinks now is the moment she’s been waiting for._ _  
__  
__Aabha closes her eyes and concentrates, gathering warmth to her fingertips. When she opens her eyes, there’s a wisp of magical fire cupped in her hands like a candleflame, and Amalia, her best friend, staring at her with awe and wonder and a smile Aabha hopes would never end…_ _  
__  
_ Aabha snapped back to the present with a cry, the memory flashing like lightning behind her eyes. She seethed, a righteous indignation rising in her chest.  
  
“Get out of my head!” Aabha snarled.  
  
“Why?” Cyrus demurred. “Why so angry, child? Is it because you know I’m not the first to be meddling in here?”  
  
Aabha winced. Fragments of memory began trickling back, filling a void in her head she hadn’t realized was there until this morning. Shadows moved in the dark, and one of the spell circles binding Aabha’s aura shifted and clicked.  
  
_Haze. Wrath. Amalia’s staring, a hand over her mouth. The boy pushes himself up off the pavement and glares at her, blood streaming down his nose. Fire pulses in her clenched fists. She smells his blood, sees red--_ _  
__  
_ Aabha shuddered. She screwed her eyes shut, flexing her fingers.  
  
“...stop…” she growled.  
  
Before her, Cyrus twitched his fingers. The magic circle rotated around her. There was another click--  
  
_Candlelight. Tangled hair. Tangled limbs. The whole world is sea salt and honey and hushed, tinkling laughter--_  
  
“ _Stop it!_ ” Aabha shrieked. “That’s--”  
  
“What? _Private?_ ” Cyrus sneered. “Until a moment ago, you didn’t even remember her name!”  
  
The rings aligned around her, and the seal let out a sound that was less of a click and more of a thunderclap. Scarlet and gold rose in flickering brambles above Aabha’s form, caged in shivering violet lightning. Aabha shuddered. Another memory shone in the darkness of astral space, bright and clear…  
  
_“Why can’t you listen to me?” she begs. “You’re never on my side!”_ _  
__  
__“I’m on your side, Aabha, but this cannot continue!” Anand insists, looking small and helpless as he leans against her dresser. “The fights. Your temper. Your power… it’s out of control! These aren’t just harmless scuffles with schoolyard bullies, Aabha. What would happen to this family if an unregistered Mage lets their powers run amok? If someone got hurt--”_ _  
__  
__“Then let me train! The Order runs an Academy on Providence. They can teach me--”_ _  
__  
__“No! Your mother was quite clear… and I can’t fight her on this. While you are under our roof, you will abide by our rules. From now on… no more fighting. No more magic. It’s for your own good, Aabha.”_ _  
__  
__She scowls, unable to bite back the words._ _  
__  
__“And let me guess: no more Amalia. Is that what Mother told you?”_ _  
__  
__Anand looks away, wringing his hands._ _  
__  
__“...Yes. She is not welcome under this roof.”_ _  
__  
__She seethes, fire flaring across her knuckles, but Anand reaches out and takes her hand._ _  
__  
__“But wherever else you go, so long as your mother doesn’t see…” Anand sighs, and offers her a pained, timid smile. “...then… this will be our little secret.”_ _  
__  
_ Aabha returned with a gasp. She took a shuddering breath, blinking away errant tears. Around her, the fires of her aura continued to grow and grow…  
  
Cyrus watched her, puzzling over the spell seared into her aura as if it were little more than a particularly vexing Rubik’s cube. Shadows snaked up from the ground and tinkered with the seal, rotating the rings notch by notch, nudging each pattern into place so that the intricate sigil would align. In the midst of it all, Aabha sat, bound and squirming, each turn of the spell rings grinding like gears in her head. In that moment, she felt more naked and vulnerable than she ever had in her life. Slice at her skin, shred her body until she was dressed in little more than rags, that was something Aabha could endure. But to have this sorcerer at the door of her mind, his shadows probing the lock…  
  
“There is a fire inside you,” Cyrus intoned, with reverent awe. “One that burns hotter and brighter than that of any mortal mage. I will not let such a gift rot away ignominiously beneath a psychic seal. Someone went through a great deal of effort to lock away your memories, and with it, your true potential. And I intend to find out _why!_ ”  
  
With one final cry, Cyrus aligned the magic circle just so-- and the seal erupted into violet lightning and howling wind. Aabha screamed as a dam burst within her, the solitary drip of returning memories becoming a trickle, a trickle becoming a flood. Light and color cascaded around her in a dizzying wave, and with the lights, came the voices…  
  
_“Are you okay?”_ _  
__  
__“You were amazing!”_ _  
__  
__“Apologize!”_ _  
__  
__“Dad, say something!”_ _  
__  
__“You’re never on my side!”_ _  
__  
__“Even after everything I’ve done for you--”_ _  
__  
__“Dipti, wait!”_ _  
__  
__“--you still bring this whore into my house! Tempting you!_ ** _Defiling_** _you!”_ _  
__  
__“Get your hands off me!”_ _  
__  
__“Hedonist! Slut! I’ll--”_ _  
__  
__The world slows to a crawl. The moment sears itself into her eyes-- her mother, furious and spitting her rage; Amalia, defiant and struggling, Dipti clutching a fistful of her hair like just another schoolyard bully; her father, watching like a coward, helpless--_ _  
__  
__And Aabha, blazing like a bonfire with eyes that saw only red._ _  
__  
_**_“Leave her alone!”_** _  
__  
_ Aabha screamed. The magic seal shattered. The windows of the testing chamber shattered. The guards’ mirrored visors cracked, and their helmet radios shrieked with static.  
  
Cyrus recoiled, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the radiant glare.  
  
Aabha screamed. Her eyes shone like stars.  
  
The testing chamber vanished in a blaze of light.  
  
~*~  
  
The sun was setting over Trance City, bathing the city in its golden glow. Kresnik stood on a terrace overlooking the city, leaning heavily on the balcony rail, his off-white armor gleaming and gilded in the fading light. The long walk to the landing pad, with a battered Morgan in Lily’s arms, gnawed at his senses. He scowled, taking one last draw of his cigarette before flicking it over the rail. The glowing stub disappeared into the vast sprawl below.  
  
Kresnik huffed out a sigh full of pale blue smoke. He watched it drift up to join the shimmering blue barrier over the city, tinting and dimming Hypnos’ harsh sunlight.  
  
One little blue barrier was all that stood between Trance City and a slow, scorching death.  
  
A girl in a crisp black and electric-blue uniform emerged on the landing. She cleared her throat, clutching a dataslate to her chest.  
  
“Excuse me, sir,” she began. “The files you requested.”  
  
“Thanks,” Kresnik rumbled. “Give it here.”  
  
He plucked the slate from the runner’s fingers. It was like a toy in his huge, armored grip. He flicked the screen upwards, reading.  
  
“I didn’t know you had an interest in theology, sir,” the runner said.  
  
“Why? I don’t look the type?” Kresnik grinned. “A good hunter does his research. Now, gimme a minute, would ya?”  
  
The runner nodded, and stepped back inside.  
  
Kresnik had followed the progress of Aabha’s ‘test’ over EXC Tower’s live security feed. A lifetime of hunting supers had given Kresnik some level of insight into facing them in combat, but no amount of experience could substitute for magical potential. As a result, his eyes couldn’t follow Cyrus and Aabha into the shifting shadows of astral space. All the security feed showed him was a girl, strapped to a chair, seething and squirming under the impassive gaze of a soft-spoken sadist. Compared to whatever light show was going on, invisible to non-magical eyes, somehow, that seemed worse.  
  
_“You have a powerful healing factor,”_ Cyrus had said. _“You have speed and strength beyond any mortal men, and an exceptional talent with fire magic. You have potential, girl, so much potential, but most of it stays locked away, only emerging in extremis… curious. Very curious. Triggered by blood, I see. Not, I think, by your own…”_  
  
Cyrus didn’t do anything-- nothing Kresnik could see, at any rate. But then Aabha had cried out, and squirmed in her seat. Cyrus had smiled.  
  
Kresnik muted the feed after that. He went ahead and muted his comm, too, for good measure.  
  
Kresnik frowned, scrolling down the slate. Whatever this girl Aabha was, she wasn’t human, that much was clear. But what, then?  
  
“Ifrit almost seems too obvious, all that fire,” Kresnik muttered to himself. Except, there were no more ifrit. Not fullblooded, and probably not even half- or quarter-bloods, anymore. Of course, Cyrus would probably say something like ‘the blood cannot lie’, no matter how diluted…  
  
An asura, then. And not one of the nice, upstanding Devas, either. A martial spirit, empowered by battle, and grows stronger as it succumbs to its own bloodlust, who is still nonetheless capable of wielding the sacred flame…  
  
An explosion split the evening air and jolted Kresnik out of his thoughts. He drew his sidearm and snapped his aim to the door. The runner burst out onto the terrace, raising her arms with a yelp.  
  
“Don’t shoot…!” she squeaked. “S-Sir, they’ve been trying your comm. It’s Overseer Harken, sir. You’re needed in--”  
  
“Testing, right?” Kresnik asked. He drummed his fingers along the line of color-coded magazines hanging from his belt. He picked one marked with a stripe of metallic white ink, and slotted it into his pistol with a snap. “I’ll be right down.”  
  
~*~  
  
Embers flurried like snow caught in headlights, fireflies among the smoke. A shadow shot through the dark and smashed an Exchange trooper into the wall, pulping his innards and sending a spiderweb of cracks along the concrete. The trooper beside him fumbled with his weapon, his dark, mirrored visor glinting in the light of alarms and drifting embers. Five points of light flashed through the gloom like falling stars and painted the wall behind him with machine oil and blood.    
  
“The subject is loose! The subject is loose!” Harken wailed, fighting to be heard over the blaring klaxons and inhuman shrieking shivering the air. “Kresnik! Where are you?!”  
  
Harken touched a key on his comm. A control console rose out of the floor, and he hurried over, his fingers flying over the keys.  
  
There was a strangled cry. Harken flinched as a trooper hurled through the smoke and bounced off the console, leaving a ghastly spray of gore on the cracked casing. Harken whimpered, keying in his comm.  
  
“I need security and a cryogenic containment team to my location, immediately! _Immediately!_ ”  
  
A pair of troopers shouldered their rifles and fired. Two bolts of azure lightning lanced into the smoke. An instant later, the troopers vanished in a wall of crimson fire.  
  
Harken recoiled, clutching the edges of his console, warping and blackening in the intense heat. Above him, two bloody crimson orbs pierced the smoke, shining like hateful stars.  
  
A cascade of fire came crashing down. Harken wailed in fear--  
  
\--but the wave parted with a squeal like wet glass. Amidst the roaring flames and the blaring emergency klaxons, Cyrus stood, his myriad rings glinting like constellations across his fingers, a bubble of shifting shadows parting the brilliant fire like a stone in a stream. Cyrus opened his arms wide, cackling with a manic glee.  
  
“You see?!” Cyrus cried, exultant. “Do you see what you could become if only you embraced it?! Do you see now your true potential, _rakshasi?!”_ _  
__  
_ The smoke parted, and Aabha emerged, all pretenses of humanity stripped away. She was transformed-- her skin shining from within with a web of fire, as if there were magma in her veins. She floated just above the ground, shrouded with an aura of heat haze. Her braid had come undone, unraveling into a mane of fire that blazed like a crown. Her nails had become claws, glowing like lit coals. Aabha’s eyes, once warm amber, now blazed with a toxic, hellish red light. She grimaced and seethed, baring teeth that had become pointed fangs.  
  
The testing chamber hatch slid open. The first man through the door died immediately, a gob of burning magma reducing his helmeted head to a fused, molten mess. The rest of Harken’s reinforcements opened fire.  
  
Aabha snarled and eviscerated another trooper with a spear of thrown magma, before six beams of pale white frost converged on her form and sent her reeling. Aabha hissed in pain, steam rising from where the beams struck her aura of radiant heat. Aabha growled and hunkered down before the assault, her flesh blackening and becoming stone-like, gathering another orb of fire in her hands.  
  
Aabha hurled her orb of magma, heedless of the frigid cryo rays forcing her down. The orb spattered and hardened against a beam. Two more troopers fell, transfixed with gleaming shards of volcanic glass.  
  
A rope of acid yellow light coiled around Aabha’s wrist. She pulled the beam taught, but it wouldn’t budge. She looked up, snarling.  
  
Harken tapped swiftly at his console. Hidden emitters rose out of the floor, binding Aabha in a web of light. Beams of solidified plasma locked around her wrists, her ankles, and her throat, forcing her down to her knees. The remaining cryo troopers kept up their attack, flooding her with frigid cold. A cryo beam caught Aabha right in the face, and a clump of her hair, blazing with fire, turned brittle and broke away in a shower of obsidian shrapnel. Aabha spat and cursed, fighting at her restraints, snapping her teeth and snarling like an animal.  
  
Cyrus watched, his fingers to his chin, rapt with attention. Harken held his breath, daring to hope that it was over.  
  
Aabha screamed.  
  
Her fury shivered the air and reignited her aura of brilliant, golden flame. She flexed her fingers, and fire spiraled down her glowing chains, melting a plasma-lock projector right out of its mounting.  
  
With a furious cry, Aabha ripped the emitter out of the floor and hurled it across the room, just as the beam flickered out around her wrist. It flew, like a comet trailing gobs of molten metal, and obliterated Harken’s control console in a cloud of debris. The remaining plasma locks disengaged and Aabha dove upon the cryo troopers, white-hot claws ripping, tearing, melting.  
  
Aabha stabbed her shining claws through a man’s visor, hooked her burning fingers through his eye sockets, and set his skull ablaze. She kicked another man against the wall and opened him up, shoulder to hip, with one agonizing rake of her claws. She pinned a man down and tore out his throat with her teeth, his blood wisping to steam as it sprayed across her scalding-hot skin. The last trooper hesitated, a second too long. Aabha slapped his rifle aside and stabbed her claws into his gut. She hooked her fingers around his ribs and lifted him up, his feet dangling uselessly above the ground. Fire spread from Aabha’s fingers, immolating him from within.  
  
Aabha threw the burning corpse aside. It flaked into ashes and embers as it hit the ground. She turned, her baleful crimson eyes meeting Cyrus’ across the room.  
  
Cyrus balked. He flexed his fingers, summoning his shadow.  
  
Aabha slammed him off his feet, her form trailing golden fire like a comet. She smashed him to the ground, ablaze with light and righteous fury, snarling and spitting her rage. Cyrus raised his hand, the rings on his fingers shining with power. Aabha shrieked, and her fangs came snapping down.  
  
An explosion shook the room like a thunderclap.  
  
Cyrus staggered to his feet, orbited by wisps of volatile arcane power. A number of his rings were scorched or melted, their gems cracked or clouded. He shook the broken rings from his fingers, and they clattered, spent and inert, to the testing room floor.  
  
Aabha had been thrown across the chamber, wreathed in ribbons of multicolored light. Cyrus watched as she got to her feet.  
  
Cyrus sucked in a breath.  
  
“ _Outstanding_...”  
  
Aabha’s face was a mess of gore, her jaw a ragged, bloody stump. Her upper torso was scorched all the way down to the bone, and her right arm clung to a ruined shoulder by a few scant tendrils of flesh.  
  
But there was a fire inside her that would not be put out. Her aura flared with hateful intensity, and golden fire shone from within her grievous wounds. Scorched flesh became fresh and new. Heat blisters receded into pink scars, into nothing. A new eye formed in the empty, charred socket, and a new jaw grew from her skull, forming out of golden light before being sheathed in rejuvenated flesh.  
  
Aabha let out a ragged breath. She locked eyes with Cyrus, flexing her fingers. Her mane of hair rose like flames around her, filling with light and fury. Slowly, grimly, she took a step.  
  
A shot rang out. Aabha staggered back, glancing down in irritation at the round marring her newly regenerated shoulder. She growled.  
  
Another shot struck her in the thigh, and Aabha seethed, falling to one knee. The two rounds began to smoke and sizzle.  
  
With a cry of frustration, Aabha stabbed her claws into her thigh and ripped out the solid slug. Her fangs sank into her shoulder and she dug out the round with her teeth, spitting the gob of molten silver to the floor.  
  
Aabha’s aura of fire flickered and faded. She stubbornly rose to her feet, taking one step, then another, each one with less and less power and purpose than the last. The toxic red light filling her eyes faded away. Her hair lost its glow and settled across her shoulders, dark and stringy with sweat.  
  
Aabha met Kresnik’s eyes down the iron sights of his pistol. From one moment to the next, Aabha had gone from a demi-goddess, blazing with divine wrath, to a young woman, far from home. Kresnik shuddered, and looked away.  
  
Aabha fell to her knees, panting, breaking out into a cold sweat. Exhaustion took her, and she passed out, curled up on a scorched floor surrounded by embers, ashes, and dust.  
  
Harken warily emerged from beneath the rubble of his ruined control console, his dove-gray suit blackened and charred. He stared into the remains of his testing chamber, still weeping smoke into Hypnos’ sky, filled with mutilated bodies, the walls covered in burnt, cooked blood. His eyes drifted to Cyrus, smiling with manic glee despite everything that just happened, and to Aabha, curled up and sleeping so peacefully, so innocently, despite being surrounded by corpses.  
  
“She is a menace,” Harken hissed, trembling.  
  
“No,” Cyrus shook his head, filled with awe. “She is a _miracle_.”  
  
_“Look at this!”_ Harken railed. “Look at my facility! Look at my men!”  
  
“Unfortunate,” Cyrus said, callous, “but useful, and not without cause. This was an exceptional test.”  
  
Harken fumed. He took a deep breath, and bit back his anger.  
  
“...I will not let my men get slaughtered just so you can collect _data_ ,” Harken spat. “She cannot stay here.”  
  
“I agree,” Cyrus said, casually dismissing Harken’s outrage with a wave of his hand. “This facility is not equipped to handle a woman of her talents. Fortunately, I have a more… private… residence prepared.”  
  
Harken huffed and looked away, cowed. He flexed his fists, staring at the floor.  
  
“You will, of course, be amply compensated for your efforts,” Cyrus mused, as an afterthought. “Arrange a private transport out of the city. My people have a facility hidden in the desert where our work can continue.”  
  
“ _Your_ work,” Harken muttered acidly.  
  
“Is there a problem, Overseer?” Cyrus asked, in that soft, eerie voice. A chill ran up Harken’s spine. He took a shuddering breath, and meekly lowered his gaze.  
  
“...No, Your Excellency.”  
  
“Then let us be off. I believe you have a train to commandeer. I will look after our guest.”  
  
Cyrus walked out of the chamber, his long robe trailing behind him. He gestured, his rings glittering, and his shadow stretched across the chamber until it was pooling beneath Aabha’s prone form. Kresnik watched, scowling, as Aabha slipped silently into the inky darkness like a crocodile into murky water.  
  
Harken wiped cold sweat from his brow with an upturned cuff. The hatch opened and a security squad filed in-- the one Harken had requested what felt like hours ago. Harken grit his teeth and went to admonish them for taking so long, when he stopped, and checked his chron.  
  
Three minutes. Security was right on time. It wasn’t their fault that a monster had slaughtered his men in just two.  
  
A monster. A monster! Not a girl at all.  
  
“Come along, Overseer,” Cyrus said, his soft voice carrying ghostlike down the hall. Harken sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
“...Kresnik, you’re in charge,” Harken muttered wearily. “Clean up this mess.”  
  
Kresnik leered, watching Harken disappear down the corridor in the sorcerer’s wake. The security squad lingered in the doorway, taking in their surroundings in quiet shock. They murmured amongst themselves in fear and wonder, their helmet comms crackling.  
  
Kresnik turned, and the squad snapped rigidly to attention.  
  
“Everybody out!” Kresnik rumbled. “I need to make a call.”  
  
~*~  
  
_“Your girl is being moved to a secure facility,”_ Kresnik said, a luminous form standing above the Sparrow’s holoterminal. _“Out of the city, into the ass-end of nowhere. The Blood Pact thinks they’ve found a keeper.”_  
  
“Why?” Kit demanded, her fists balled at her sides. “What do they want with her?”  
  
_“Does it matter?”_ Kresnik shrugged. _“Who knows what’s going on in those nutjobs’ heads? Either way, it won’t matter if you get to her first. Here, lock onto this frequency. I planted a tracker on your friend. Well, inside her, actually.”_  
  
Crane raised an eyebrow. “...How, exactly…?”  
  
“How do you think?” Kresnik grunted. “I shot her.”  
  
“You _shot_ her?” Lily snapped.  
  
_“Can we not get hung up on that?”_ Kresnik grumbled. _“Listen, they’re going to leave in an hour, maybe two. There’s a magrail that leads east, out of the city and into the desert. They’ll be going by train, and they’ll be escorted by an armed convoy. Still, I figure that’s better odds than storming the EXC.”_  
  
“So we hit them while they’re in transit,” Robyn mused. She glanced back at Syl, who silently met her eyes. “Makes sense. And it’s already more of a plan than we had a few hours ago.”  
  
“You realize, by giving us this intel, many of your men could be killed,” Yuna said softly. “And you’re… okay with that?”  
  
_“The convoy’s gonna be fully mechanized,”_ Kresnik sniffed. _“Security drones. After the bloodbath in the testing chamber, Harken’s gotten wise to how mechanized security is easier to replace. Besides, they’re not_ ** _my_** _men. Only one I care about in the Exchange is the one who signs my checks.”_  
  
“What about you, then?” Crane asked, nudging her glasses up on her nose. “What do _you_ get out of all this?”  
  
_“What, you mean besides not getting cooked in my armor?”_ Kresnik scoffed. _“Your girl’s more trouble than she’s worth. The Blood Pact’s not paying us enough to babysit berserk demons. As far as I care, if you want her, you can have her. But it’s not up to me.”_  
  
“Cyrus,” Lily spat. Kresnik nodded, grave.  
  
_“That sorcerer’s the last thing standing between you and getting your girl back,”_ Kresnik said. _“Are you sure you still wanna hit that train?”_  
  
~*~  
  
The sun had set over Hypnos, but hope appeared like the first stars in the night sky, banishing the pall of despondency and impotent frustration that had hung heavy over the ship all day. Now, they had intel they could act upon. Direction. Purpose.  
  
At least, everyone else did. But as the rest of the ship erupted into a frenzy of activity and preparation, Lila sat idle in the infirmary, keeping watch over Morgan and generally feeling kind of useless-- a child, tagging along with adults who had better things to do.  
  
Lila was sitting cross-legged on a spare cot, her chin in her hands, when she heard Morgan waking up. He stirred, blinking himself awake under the harsh infirmary lights, turning to Lila and studying her, puzzled.  
  
“Miss Chase?” he wondered.  
  
“Hey,” Lila said. “We, uh, haven’t really talked much in person. Oh, you should-- you probably shouldn’t move too much--”  
  
Morgan sat up too quickly. A flash of pain lanced across his chest and he clutched his stomach, sinking back onto his cot.  
  
“Or you could do that,” Lila said.  
  
Morgan took a deep breath, bracing both hands heavily on the sides of his bed. His entire body throbbed and ached. He raised two fingers and traced a spell pattern from memory, his fingertips shimmering a soothing green. Morgan sighed in relief, healing power taking the edge off his pain.  
  
The control room opened down the hall, and the team emerged. Yuna ducked upstairs. Syl and Crane caught Morgan’s eyes through the infirmary window and veered off to see him, while Robyn ushered Kit and Lily down to the cargo bay. Lila hurriedly excused herself before clambering out of her seat and following after her sister, pushing past Syl and Crane in the doorway.  
  
“Morgan,” Crane began, with the utmost fondness. “Welcome back.”  
  
“Hey, Tabby,” Morgan smiled, though he winced, clutching his ribs. “What’s going on? Why is Delilah Chase here? Why are _you_ here?”  
  
“Can’t a girl visit her favorite twins?” Crane teased, almost shockingly warm compared to her usual demeanor. She sat, and pulled Morgan’s hand into her lap, before reaching beside her and linking her fingers with Syl. “Look at us. The Triskelion, together again, and your junior isn’t around to see it.”  
  
“Aabha,” Morgan said sharply. He looked up, beseeching. “Where’s Aabha?”  
  
“We got a tip,” Syl explained. “From the bounty hunter who brought you in.”  
  
“Kresnik?” Morgan furrowed his brows. “Are we trusting him?”  
  
“It’s our only lead,” Syl said. “According to him, Aabha’s being moved to a Blood Pact facility somewhere out in the desert. The plan is to rescue her while she’s still in transit. Robyn and the girls are getting ready to go right now.”  
  
“They could be walking into a trap,” Morgan said.  
  
“Better than walking into EXC Tower,” Crane offered.  
  
“And the worst part is, we can’t go with them,” Syl said. “Commander Vega said that The Order cannot be seen to be attacking the Exchange. You, me, and Tabby have to sit this out. Cassie’s orders.”  
  
“Shit,” Morgan said. “So… the captain, and the girls…?”  
  
“Kit and Lily want Aabha back more than anyone else on this ship,” Syl said. “We have to trust them to get her back. It’s out of our hands.”  
  
Morgan shook his head. He sighed, long and low. He looked up, and saw Crane watching him, worried. He smiled, rueful.  
  
“Let me guess,” Morgan said. “You know what I’m thinking.”  
  
“It doesn’t take a psychic,” Crane said gently. “Aabha’s very dear to you. To all of you.”  
  
Morgan exhaled. He squeezed Crane’s hand.  
  
“I’m glad you’re here, Tabby,” he murmured.  
  
“For all the good _I_ can do,” Crane sighed. “My hands are tied, just like yours. I’m an Agent.”  
  
Morgan reached up, reflexively reaching for a leather cord and glass vial that was currently miles away.  
  
“No,” Morgan said. “You’re family.”  
  
~*~  
  
The cargo bay was a storm of activity. Robyn stepped onto the engineering catwalk and made a beeline for the Remora control panel. One of the docked Remoras descended on its crane hoist and locked into the launch catapult on the deck below. Kit and Lily scurried past, making their way down from the balcony and into the armory. They ducked past Jaki and Shanti, who climbed up to meet Robyn, Shanti signing rapidly as they went.  
  
“Captain,” Jaki began, glancing at Shanti’s hands. “Shanti says she might have a safer way for us to board the train rather than dropping from the skimmer. She just needs some time to get it ready.”  
  
“Take whatever you need and toss it in the Remora. We’ll figure it out on the way,” Robyn said.  
  
Shanti nodded. Robyn clapped a hand on her shoulder and ushered her back down the steps to her workshop.  
  
Yuna appeared, the coat Robyn wore on Whitefall draped over her arm. Robyn leaned up and gave her a peck on the lips before shrugging on the hooded, fur-lined coat. Hypnos got chilly after dark, after all.  
  
“Strike One will be ready to launch within the hour,” Robyn reported, distracted. “The twins have the ship. You’ll be watching from the control room, won’t you?”  
  
“Actually…” Yuna said softly. “...I was hoping to go with you.”  
  
Robyn paused. Only now did she realize what Yuna was wearing-- boots, fatigue pants, and a field jacket, a far cry from the light, airy sundresses she was so fond of.  
  
Robyn exhaled. “...You don’t have to do this, Yuna.”  
  
“We both know that’s not true,” Yuna chided, quiet but firm. “You cannot take Agents with you, but I am not an Agent. I’m not a very good shot, and I haven’t had any formal training, but… we all know how much Aabha means to this team. Please, Robyn. We need to get Aabha out of there and bring her home, and if all I can do is carry her, then that’s what I’ll do.”  
  
Robyn hesitated.  
  
“...Yuna…” Robyn blew out a sigh. “I can’t just… bring an untrained civilian with me to a shootout, you know? So, I’m sorry, but--”  
  
Yuna pouted, and pulled Robyn to her chest, pressing a kiss to her scalp.  
  
“I understand, captain,” Yuna cooed.  
  
“This is bribery. This is bribery!” Robyn laughed, wriggling out of Yuna’s grasp. “Alright. Get your things. Stay close to me, and try not to get shot. Let’s bring Aabha home.”  
  
Just below them, Kit pressed her thumb against the biometric lock and then threw her armory locker open. She unselfconsciously flung her clothes aside, shimmying into her exosuit and clicking the activation stud. The rows of embedded armored scales realigned themselves against her body, molding itself to her form like a second skin.  
  
“Alright, here’s the plan,” Kit said gravely, pulling her heat blade and dagger out in their paired sheaths and slinging them over her shoulder. “We kick Cyrus’ teeth in. We bust Aabha out of there. We go to this one place on 23rd that’s, no shit, a 24/7 buffet. We eat until we want to die, Lila tells us how cool I was-- how cool _we_ were, but mostly me-- and then all these gangsters can fuck off and we all have a cuddle. That sound good to you?”  
  
“Oh yeah? And then what?” Lily asked dryly.  
  
“Shit, I dunno. Karaoke?” Kit grinned, but it was a manic grin, undercut with nerves.  
  
Lily knew how that felt. She sighed. “...Sounds like we’re in for a hell of a night…”  
  
Lily pulled her shotgun out of her locker, racked it with a satisfying click, and then set it aside. She loaded her derringer, and locked it into the quickdraw system lining the inside of her coat sleeve. Then, she pulled out a laspistol, slotting in a power cell and watching the green indicator light wink on just above her thumb. She exhaled, feeling the reassuring hum of a charged laser weapon.  
  
“I’d switch that for an auto,” Vincent said.  
  
Kit glowered and stepped in front of Lily, but Lily pulled her back. Vincent was sitting on a storage crate by his own locker, dressed for the field in a denim jacket, a gray sweatshirt, and a bandolier bristling with explosives. Lily eyed him warily.  
  
“...I thought you didn’t much care for being a hero,” she said.  
  
“I don’t,” Vincent shrugged. “Makes us normal folk look bad. But if you’re gonna go risk your life on a rescue mission, you might as well bring the right gear. You’re expecting mechs, right? That means shields. That means good old-fashioned slugthrowers. Or phasic weapons, but you don’t see too many of those.”  
  
“Here’s one.”  
  
Syl appeared at the foot of the gantry steps, a bundle in her arms. Kit and Lily straightened up as she approached, nodding to them in turn.  
  
“Girls,” Syl began. “I have something for the two of you.”  
  
She pressed the bundle into Lily’s hands-- a sleek, compact phase pistol in a fabric thigh holster, along with a pair of spare charge packs. Lily’s eyes went wide.  
  
“This is--”  
  
“Morgan’s, yes,” Syl said, “so I expect you to bring that back in one piece. Kit, this is for you.”  
  
While Lily strapped on her new gift, Kit took a neatly folded bundle from Syl’s hands, and unfurled it to reveal Syl’s trenchcoat. Kit opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. She pulled the coat on, open over her exosuit. The coat only reached Syl’s knees, but on Kit, it went all the way down to her ankles.  
  
“You’ll be in the desert, after dark, beyond Trance City’s climate shield,” Syl said. “I don’t want you to get cold.”  
  
Syl stepped forward, laying her hands on Kit and Lily’s shoulders and pulling them into a conspiratorial huddle.  
  
“Morgan and I can’t come with you,” Syl whispered. “But we’ll be monitoring your progress from the control room. We’re with you, girls. Up there, and out there.”  
  
They nodded, Kit taking a shuddering breath. Syl clapped them both on their backs before retreating up onto the balcony. Vincent watched them carefully, slotting magazines into a pair of solid-round pistols and strapping them to his hips.  
  
“I just don’t get it,” he muttered, without any malice.  
  
“C’mon, Vince,” Lily said wearily. “What’s not to get? Aren’t you an orphan?”  
  
“Yeah, and that’s why I don’t get it,” Vincent said, sounding sincere. “Your foster dad was a huge piece of shit. You haven’t seen your bio folks in, like, ten years. You’re out here, grown, making it on your own terms. Why should family mean anything to you?”  
  
“That’s why it means _more_ , to me,” Lily said, glancing up at the balcony.  
  
Lila lingered on the balcony, hesitant, before Syl nudged her forward. She descended the steps to the cargo deck. She met Lily’s eyes in silent apology, before darting forward into an embrace.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lila murmured into Lily’s throat. “I’m sorry I blew up at you about your plan a few hours ago, but now you’re going right back out there, and I know there’s a plan, and you’ll be armed, and you won’t be alone, but--”  
  
“But you’re still scared,” Lily said.  
  
“I’m not scared,” Lila huffed. “I’m worried, though. I would worry about you wherever you go, whatever kind of danger you go walking into. But I’m not scared.”  
  
Lila pulled back, holding Lily by the shoulders. She met her eyes, smiling like the sun.  
  
“I love you, Lily. I know you. I know Aabha needs you. So go out there and bring her home-- I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”  
  
Lily grinned, reaching up and ruffling Lila’s hair.  
  
“You do realize that Aabha’s the reason I’m walking into danger in the first place?” Lily asked. She sighed. “...I’m sorry, Lila. I don’t want to make you worry. But I have to--”  
  
“I get it,” Lila smiled. “She’s your sister.”  
  
Lily’s eyes were wet. She pulled Lila into another hug.  
  
“Just do one thing for me,” Lila said. “Tell me you’ll be back, and I’ll believe you.”  
  
“We’ll be back,” Lily said, looking up and meeting Syl’s eyes. “All of us.”  
  
There was a roar of engines, and the Remora’s anti-gravity halo warbled to life, the skimmer straining against its docking clamps. The cargo bay doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, letting in Hypnos’ dry, dusty desert air. Robyn thumped a gloved hand against the Remora’s chassis as it opened up, unfurling like chrome flower petals. Kit was first in line to board, followed by Lily, Vincent, Jaki, and then Shanti and a crate full of parts. Lila watched from the balcony, Syl’s hand coming to rest protectively on her shoulder. Yuna and Robyn were the last to board, running a final check of supplies and ammunition.  
  
Morgan’s voice sounded over the intraship vox, still tinged with lingering aches.  
  
_“Strike One, board your craft and prepare for launch.”_  
  
“Let’s do this,” Robyn muttered, keying in her earpiece to link with the ship’s vox.  
  
“Standby for launch!” Robyn called. _“Three minutes!”_  
  
~*~  
  
_“Three minutes,”_ intoned a flat, synthesized voice over the crackling radio.  
  
“Proceed,” Harken muttered absently. The EXC Tower sublevels stretched out around him. The first few floors were public knowledge-- a vast underground garage complex large enough to house civilian staff and any guests they might bring in. The first sub-basement held the EXC’s fleet of ‘research’ skimmers for when it was time to go poaching, and access was highly restricted. The second sub-basement was an a guarded secret, and that basement held a train platform.  
  
A ramp lowered in the distance, bathing the sublevels not in moonlight, but in the dreary orange of low-power road lamps. A dozen two-man outriders swiveled their mounted guns and revved their engines. They shot down the tunnel like tungsten slugs fired through a mass accelerator, gleaming like tracer rounds as they emerged into the pale blue glow of Trance City’s climate shield. Another dozen outriders revved their engines, a second squad waiting to follow behind.  
  
Harken huffed an irritated sigh, drumming his fingers against the side of his console. He held down a key.  
  
“Your Excellency, the forward units are deployed. We will be departing shortly.”  
  
_“Very well, Mr. Harken.”_  
  
Harken shuddered at the sound of his name in that soft, melodic voice. The sooner this delivery was done with, the better. Soon Cyrus and the girl would be tucked away in the desert, far away from civilization and even further away from disrupting Exchange business. Harken would be free to retire to his office, pour himself a drink, and sit and wait for the credits to clear.  
  
Harken felt the onset of a headache. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the pain away.  
  
Soon. Soon, it would be over.   
  
“Your orders, sir?” A security mech inquired tonelessly, surrounded by a squad of its faceless, identical brethren.    
  
“Get to your stations,” Harken snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”  
  
~*~  
  
_Gray. Like the shifting shadows of astral space, or the long fog of memory. In the darkness, light-- sun streaming in through the blinds, and settling in Amalia’s hair, forming a halo of gold around her dark, sun-kissed skin. All in white, the light glinting off the gauze, she looks like an angel-- or a ghost. And, like an angel, or a ghost, Aabha clings to her hand more tightly than she’s ever done, their fingers entwined, as if Amalia will vanish into the sunlight the instant she lets go._ _  
__  
__“I’m sorry,” Aabha whimpers. It’s all she’s been able to say for the last hour. Amalia shushes her each time, but she doesn’t speak. Aabha’s not sure what she wants her to say._ _  
__  
__‘I’m fine’? (She’s not.)_ _  
__  
__‘You didn’t hurt me'? (She did.)_ _  
__  
__‘It wasn’t your fault’? (It_ ** _was_** _.)_ _  
__  
__So when Amalia finally decides what to say, Aabha isn’t sure how to respond._ _  
__  
__“I’m sorry, too,” Amalia whispers. She blinks away a single tear, that traces a lonely path down her cheek and merges with the gauze wrapped around her chest, her face, her arms._ _  
__  
__“Why?” Aabha murmurs._ _  
__  
__“My parents are pressing charges,” Amalia says. She swallows hard. “I- I begged them not to. But they can’t just let this go. They’re-- I’m sorry, mahal ko. They got the Order involved.”_ _  
__  
__A stone sinks in Aabha’s chest. The Order. She’s in trouble, now. More than she’s ever been._ _  
__  
__When next Aabha manages to speak, her voice is very small._ _  
__  
__“Will I ever see you again?”_ _  
__  
__Amalia squeezes her hand. “What do you think?”_ _  
__  
__Aabha sighs, blinking back tears. “...I will. If it is my karma.”_ _  
__  
__Amalia nods, reverent._ _  
__  
__“Then you will.”_ _  
__  
__Aabha holds Amalia as tight as she can, and says the only thing she can think to say._ _  
__  
__“I love you,” Aabha says, putting her whole heart into the words so they’ll last forever. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”_ _  
__  
__But it doesn’t last. It vanishes into the smoke, and the fog. Entire years vanish into the dark, until only the echoes remain…_ _  
__  
__“Aabha Puri, you are hereby found guilty of all charges. I hereby sentence you to eighteen months of supervised study at an Order training facility, during which you will earn your credentials as a registered Mage, and until such time as your talents are deemed to be sufficiently under control…”_ _  
__  
__“The comm frequency you are trying to reach has been deactivated…”_ _  
__  
__“I’m sorry, Aabha. I know this isn’t what you wanted--”_ _  
__  
__“Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”_ _  
__  
__“Breach! Security breach, infirmary level!”_ _  
__  
__“Aabha, this cannot continue. When your mother gets here--”_ _  
__  
__“I don’t care what that woman has to say to me!”_ _  
__  
__“Mr. Puri, these outbursts will not be tolerated. If your daughter continues this behavior--”_ _  
__  
__“I understand, Commander.”_ _  
__  
__“Good evening, Miss Puri. My name is Soren, and this is my junior, Agent Tabitha Crane, who will be assisting me with this procedure...”_ _  
__  
__Darkness. Engulfing, suffocating, like swimming through the deep sea. She wanders, lost in herself, holding her breath until her lungs burn, and emerges, gasping into the light--_ _  
__  
__“What if I didn’t come back?”_ _  
__  
__Anand looks up, alarmed, almost dropping the slate containing Aabha’s brand new credentials as a registered, Academy-certified Fire Mage. Archmagus Kalani’s signature still shimmered on the slate, authorized with a press of her biometrically-coded signet ring._ _  
__  
__“What are you talking about?” Anand wonders. He’s gotten thin over the years, his eyes weary and haunted. He still isn’t used to talking this much. He hasn’t been the same, since the divorce. “Where would you go?”_ _  
__  
__“I could stay here!” Aabha says, eager. “They don’t just handle registration here. There’s a program, for people like me. Three years, followed by an apprenticeship in the field. I could be a detective, Dad. An Order operative! I could fight crime! I could go out, and see the galaxy! Be a_ ** _hero_** _!”_ _  
__  
__“...That’s… exciting, dear, really, but…” Anand hesitates. “...Are you sure you don’t want to come home?”_ _  
__  
__Aabha bites her lip. She doesn’t mean to be this callous, she really doesn’t. But the truth is all she can offer._ _  
__  
__“...Well… no,” Aabha says. “There’s nothing left for me there.”_ _  
__  
__Anand nods, though his eyes are wet. “...No. I suppose there isn’t.”_ _  
_  
~*~  
  
Aabha stirred, blinking the fog from her eyes, and taking in her surroundings. The train flew across the deserts of Hypnos, gliding along on its frictionless rail. A dust cloud rose in the wake of the outriders flanking the train, rising up into the moonless night. But they were beyond the shimmering blue of Trance City’s climate shield, and Trance City’s enormous levels of light pollution. For the first time since they returned to Hypnos, Aabha could see the stars.  
  
Aabha sighed. She reached up and touched the little glass vial on its cord around her neck-- Morgan’s charm. His last piece of home.  
  
Aabha was sitting on the floor of a train car, her hands bound in silver-thread rope and tied to an armrest. Morgan’s charm around her neck was somehow unscathed after her fiery transformation back at EXC Tower. The rest of her clothes couldn’t say the same.  
  
Aabha shivered. It got cold on Hypnos, once the sun went down and you ventured beyond the climate-shielded cities. Aside from Morgan’s charm, the silver-thread rope and the angry burns creeping up her arms, Aabha had only her long, unbraided hair to preserve her modesty.  
  
As a wielder of fire magic, Aabha was almost never cold. But Cyrus’ unearthly presence leeched all the warmth from the room and made her skin crawl, just the same.  
  
“You’ve caused us quite a bit of trouble,” Cyrus mused quietly. He was sitting in front of Aabha, his fingers steepled over his chest, and he watched Hypnos’ desert fly past the window, speaking without looking at her. “But all these nuisances may yet be blessings in disguise. For instance: you cost us Site 17. But in so doing, you exposed the Syndicate’s incompetence as a business partner, and we were able to adjust our plans accordingly. Similarly, you destroyed our prototype, demonstrating its weaknesses, the flaws in its construction. Thus, you have shown us that there is room for improvement…”  
  
“The Project,” Aabha snarled. “I remember. We put an end to that.”  
  
“Don’t be silly, girl,” Cyrus chuckled. “The Project will continue.”  
  
Aabha growled. She pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at the floor.  
  
Cyrus smiled thinly. “...You also cost Harken a good number of his men. But that, too, was not without cause. A failed experiment may still provide useful data, you see. And you provided _excellent_ data.”  
  
“What, the Fire?” Aabha scowled, holding up her bound wrists. “I still don’t know what you want with her. If anybody wanted to stop her, all they need is a leash.”  
  
“Weaknesses can be removed,” Cyrus said coldly. “They can be corrected, compensated for. But strength, true strength, is something innate. It cannot be improved; only unleashed. Like the power you so selfishly kept hidden until now, that magnificent power that surfaced tonight. Power is in the blood.”  
  
“You’re wrong,” Aabha muttered. Cyrus laughed in disbelief.  
  
“Wrong?” Cyrus scoffed, bewildered. “Deny it all you like, girl, but the data is on my side. If you think I’m wrong, you had better have proof.”  
  
There was a huge jolt, followed by a wailing, tortured shriek of metal. The impact threw Cyrus out of his seat and bounced him off of the seat in front of him. Sparks flew outside the window, wreathed in jagged azure bolts. The train came to a screeching, juddering stop. Smoke filled the air, along with an acrid, electrical scent.  
  
Cyrus was an undignified lump on the floor, tangled in his ceremonial robes. He reached out, his beringed fingers scrabbling for purchase on the plush seats, and pulled himself to his feet. His eyes flitted across the train car, flickering between wonder, irritation, perhaps even fear.  
  
Aabha touched the charm around her neck, lips curling into a dangerous grin.  
  
“New data’s coming in,” Aabha growled. “Shouldn’t you be writing this down?”  
  
~*~  
  
Shanti’s EMP exploded across the magrail in shivering forks of azure lightning, the massive surge of electricity temporarily demagnetizing the track. The train crunched down onto the no-longer-frictionless rail, sparks flying, bleeding momentum with every inch.  
  
The rescue team was waiting, huddled beneath the elevated track. A pair of great, pale white and frost-blue wings extended from Yuna’s shoulders. She clung to the underside of the track like a bat to a cavern roof, and the rest of the team clung to her, curled up in Yuna’s arms as if she were a hammock.  
  
The train shrieked to a halt just above them-- right on target. Shanti knew her math.  
  
Yuna swung herself up onto the tracks with surprising grace for something so large, the rescue team cradled in her half-shifted arms, flesh melding with sleek, pale white scales. She deposited the team on the track, her non-human features disappearing into wisps of frosty blue light until only her horns, like coral antlers, remained.  
  
Vincent threw a sticky charge onto the outer hatch before darting aside and covering his ears. The lock blew out with a bang.  
  
Kit dove through the smoke in fox form, tucking into a roll and rising as a woman trailing ribbons of golden light, blades flashing in the smoke. Robyn and Lily charged in beside her, guns blazing.  
  
They were in.  
  
The forward outriders quickly realized they had left the train behind. In the time it took for them to double back around, the rescue team had already made it inside. The two squads of outriders, unable to pursue the intruders on foot, instead circled around the stationary train in a defensive formation.  
  
Each outrider was a four-wheeled buggy on long, articulated legs, built for two. As the drivers pulled the convoy into position, their gunners swiveled their mounted multilasers, hunting for targets in the darkness of the desert.  
  
Lasbolts flew at them out of the night, darts of harsh orange light that flashed off of the luminescent bubbles of the security mechs’ integrated shields. The gunners opened up in turn, their mounted weapons spewing out huge volleys of fat, acid-green bolts.  
  
A gunner’s head vanished in a burst of smoke and sparks. Another’s chestplate exploded in a hail of shredded metal. A third shot punched through an outrider’s engine block and spilled inky fuel across the dry, brown scrub and grass that managed to survive under Hypnos’ harsh sun. A fourth set the bushes, and another pair of outriders, ablaze.  
  
Shanti moved in the dark, bounding from cover to cover, never making a shot from the same perch twice. There was precious little cover, out in the desert-- so she was using her drones as a screen, drawing fire away from herself and taxing enemy shields to capacity for her to finish them with suppressed solid rounds. Unlike her foes with their garish multilasers, Shanti felt no need to put up neon signs advertising her position to the enemy.  
  
Shanti raised her rifle to her shoulder, sighting down her next target. The gunner’s mounted turret was spitting a hail of lasbolts twenty feet to her left, missing her entirely. She settled her grip on her weapon, keying commands to her drones using the haptic interface lining the insides of her gloves.  
  
The gunner took three laser bolts in quick succession from three different drones, straining his shields to near-overload. Then, a solid round punched through the underpowered barrier and his head vanished into scrap metal.  
  
Shanti drew the bolt back, smiled, and slid in a fresh round.   
  
~*~  
  
A breaching charge blasted a hatch door off its mountings and crushed a security mech into the wall. The team stormed in, ghosts in the smoke.  
  
A volley of lasfire greeted them in a torrent of sickly green. Darkness bloomed before the team like ink in water. The incoming volley vanished into the abyss, swallowed up with an eerie whistling and puffs of smoke. A storm of gunfire answered them in turn, shredding the train car in ten seconds of mayhem.  
  
Lily emerged into the flurry of drifting embers and weeping smoke, her shotgun pulled taut and braced against her shoulder with a canvas sling, Morgan’s phase pistol in her other hand. At the rear of the group, Jaki held his staff like a spear, shining with violet light, drawing darkness around the team in an abyssal barrier.  
  
A shot rang out, and promptly vanished into the darkness with a whistling hiss. Lily snapped her aim up and sent a lance of lightning into a security mech huddled under some debris. An instant later, two solid rounds punched through its chest, followed by a charged las-bolt that blasted its head into slag.  
  
“Clear!” Robyn called.  
  
“Clear!” the team echoed.  
  
Robyn jerked her head towards the main console.  
  
“Vince. Cut the engines.”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
“Captain!” Yuna called.  
  
Yuna reached behind a storage crate, stippled with gunfire and laser burns, and yanked someone out by the collar.  
  
Harken hit the floor in a crumpled heap, his once-immaculate suit and electric blue tie frayed and stained with soot. Lily and Kit both seethed at the sight of him, but Jaki held out his staff and warded them back. Robyn stepped forward, ominously adjusting the charge settings on her pistols for maximum power, single shot.  
  
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” Harken stammered. “Here! I- I have something for you!”  
  
Harken reached into his suit jacket with trembling fingers. Aabha’s and Morgan’s confiscated badges and comms skittered across the floor.  
  
“Take them!” Harken cried. “There. M-Maybe we can talk! Maybe we can work something out…?”  
  
Robyn holstered one of her pistols. She gathered up the fallen items, and passed them to Kit. She glanced back at Harken over her shoulder, and shrugged.  
  
“Okay. Let’s talk.”  
  
Robyn’s heel snapped across Harken’s face and hurled him to the deck. Robyn shoved him down, planting a boot heel over his chest. She leveled her pistol between his eyes.  
  
“I believe you owe me the lives of two of my crew,” Robyn said, her voice like ice.  
  
Harken squeaked in fear. “Th-They’re alive, aren’t they?! A-And we gave you one of them back, he’s fine, isn’t he?! We didn’t kill them!”  
  
Harken’s kneecap exploded, flecking Robyn’s face with gore. She stared Harken down, unflinching, her pistol wisping smoke, as Harken squirmed and wailed beneath her.  
  
“I didn’t kill them!” Harken bayed, desperate. “I didn’t kill them!”  
  
Robyn blew out Harken’s other kneecap, the maximum-strength lasbolt severing his leg at the knee in a ghastly spray of gore and cooked blood. Harken shrieked.  
  
“You’d be surprised what a man can live through,” Robyn hissed through gritted teeth.  
  
A hand touched Robyn’s shoulder. She flinched, sucking in a shuddering breath.  
  
“Robyn,” Yuna murmured gently.  
  
Robyn exhaled. She spat on Harken in disgust, and left him to suffer in a pool of his own blood.  
  
Strange shadows flicked across the walls. There was a lurch, and a squeal of metal, and suddenly, they were moving again.  
  
Irritation flashed across Robyn’s eyes. “Vince! The engines!”  
  
“I-It’s not me!” Vincent balked, pulling up hololithic schematics at the main console. “The train’s not moving under its own power!”  
  
“Cyrus,” Jaki spat.  
  
“Is this a problem?” Yuna wondered.  
  
Robyn considered their options. She shook her head.  
  
“Have Shanti pull out, and take the Remora back to the Sparrow. It knows the way home. Signal the Sparrow for pickup. Vince, where’s Aabha?”  
  
“I’ve got her,” Vincent said, tapping at the display. “Fifth car back.”  
  
“Let’s go,” Robyn ordered. The team began filing out of the control car.  
  
“Wait,” Harken croaked. Lily stopped in the hatchway, glaring down at him.  
  
“What,” she spat.  
  
“Please,” Harken begged, clutching his ruined legs. “You can’t leave me here. Surely, there must be something you want. The Exchange is… very wealthy. Perhaps we can make a d--”  
  
Lily shot him in the face with a phasic round, and left him convulsing and drooling on the deck.  
  
~*~  
  
Cyrus opened his arms wide and exhaled as he separated his shadow from his body. It grew and grew until it engulfed the crippled train in a shroud of darkness, lifting it off of the scored, gouged rail beneath. The train started again, gliding down the rail on a cushion of wispy black smoke, driven by an otherworldly power.  
  
Cyrus lowered his arms, letting out a weary sigh. He shook his head, amused.  
  
“Honestly,” he chuckled. “Must I do everything myself…?”  
  
Cyrus turned around.  
  
A foot snapped across his face and threw him to the floor.  
  
“Here’s the problem with your theory,” Aabha rasped, her voice tinged with a cold fury. Below her, Cyrus suddenly seemed very small. He scrambled away.  
  
“You think power’s in the blood,” Aabha continued, calmly snapping Cyrus’ ankle beneath her heel. “Because there’s some power in yours. Just like the Fire is in mine. But take that away, and what do you get?”  
  
Cyrus crawled away on his hands and knees, terror in his unnaturally red eyes. He managed to get to his feet, leaning heavily on his good leg, only to realize that Aabha had driven him into a corner.  
  
“You’re no better than those gangsters, in the end,” Aabha said, boxing him in. “The intimidating sorcerer thing is a nice gimmick. But your plans amount to… what? Cloning me? Using my blood to teach a possessed suit of armor how to fight like me? Because you think my blood is what makes me strong, right? _That’s_ what true power is?”  
  
Aabha kicked Cyrus in the throat with enough force to lift him off the ground, pinning him against the wall with her heel. The veins bulged in his unnatural red eyes, filled with silent, suffocating terror.  
  
“I am more than a daughter of a demonic bloodline! I tamed the Fire, taught it how to do more than destroy! **I** did that!” Aabha cried. “I became an Order operative to protect the galaxy from sadistic scum like you-- like the monster I _used_ to be! I’m more than that, and I’m more than her. But you? You’re just a criminal like all the rest. Without your Shadow, you are **_nothing!_** ”  
  
Aabha screamed, whirling around to shatter Cyrus’ neck with a kick--  
  
\--and froze in mid-air, a tendril of darkness seeping into her shadow, holding her in place.  
  
Cyrus stepped forward, light glinting from his rings, shadows gathering at his feet.  
  
_“Foolish girl,”_ Cyrus muttered, in a voice that wasn’t entirely his own. _“I am more than you could ever imagine.”_  
  
~*~  
  
Lily dove for cover as a cryo ray shot just above her head and left a glittering trail of frost down the back of her coat. She raised her aim, only for her shotgun to click empty.  
  
Kit shot over Lily’s head, a blur of black and gold. She slashed the mech apart, shoulder to hip, her heat blade shining and trailing gobs of molten metal. Kit hit the ground, tucked into a roll, sprang to her feet and kept on running.  
  
A second cryo ray shot over Lily’s head. Yuna took the brunt of the blast on her crossed arms, seemingly unfazed by the intense cold. Yuna weathered the assault head-on, smashing the security mech into a wall hard enough to dent the metal. She plucked the cutting-edge cryo rifle from the mech’s grip and tossed it into Lily’s hands, before demolishing the security mech’s head with a punch. It sank to the floor, trailing sparking wires like entrails.  
  
“Forward!” Robyn called out, somewhere in the chaos. “Push forward!”  
  
Strange shadows flicked down the floor.  
  
There was a bang behind them. More security mechs-- except these had crushed limbs or ragged, still-smouldering bullet holes, animated by an inky darkness.  
  
They charged, trailing black smoke, discarding their firearms and merely leaping and pouncing like animals. A possessed mech tackled Lily off her feet and they tumbled across the ground. She kicked it away, but it pounced at her, a fist raised to take her head right off.  
  
She shot it in the face with a phasic round, stopping it in its tracks. An instant later, Kit jumped past her and slashed the thing apart with a spray of molten metal.  
  
“We don’t have time for this!” Kit snarled.  
  
Robyn cut a possessed mech in two with a burst of full-auto fire, before vaporizing its head with a single charged shot. She kicked its smouldering form aside.  
  
“Girls! Go!”  
  
Kit and Lily shared a look, a host of feeling passing between them in an instant.  
  
They took off, together, side by side. Behind them, Yuna grabbed a possessed mech by its faceplate, ice creeping along its form. She grabbed it by its frozen legs and smashed it against one of its comrades, shattering them both in a hail of shrapnel and chipped ice. Jaki wrestled a possessed mech to the ground with his staff, pulling a shapeless mass of shadow out of its twitching limbs. He stabbed his staff into the figure and it exploded into violet light, its machine host falling inert.  
  
A possessed mech broke through the line and charged down the aisle. Vincent flicked his wrist and lobbed a sticky charge right at the back of the thing’s head.  
  
Kit blasted the mech out the window with a gust of magicked wind. It exploded just outside, haloing the team in brilliant fire.  
  
Kit met Lily’s eyes, nodded, and kept on running.  
  
~*~  
  
A tendril of darkness smashed against the floor. Aabha rolled out of its grasp, covered in a fresh multitude of stinging lacerations. She shuddered, struggling uselessly against her bonds, her healing power suppressed by the silver thread.  
  
Cyrus loomed above her, darkness gathering around him like mighty, black-feathered wings. His voice held an unearthly echo, unnaturally deep and booming in the confined space.  
  
_“Hubris,”_ he declared, darkness swimming around Aabha’s prone form. _“Did you truly think you could face me alone?”_ _  
__  
_ There was a bang at the head of the aisle, and something flew across the train car on a conjured breeze.  
  
Aabha snatched her badge out of the air. She sliced through the silver-thread rope with one clean swipe of the Order crescent, the orb shining between her fingers. Saffron light filled the air, and Aabha emerged from the teleport flare in full armor, gleaming red and gold. She caught Kit and Lily’s eyes across the room and broke into a rapturous grin.  
  
“Not alone.”  
  
Aabha threw her hands forward and unleashed a cascade of crimson fire. Cyrus stared, wide-eyed, before drawing the shadows in a bubble around himself, recoiling under the torrent of flames. Kit joined her, then Lily, assaulting Cyrus from all sides. Cyrus cringed beneath the weight of cascading flame, of golden, scything wind, of the pale blue cryo ray shrouding him in frost. Fire, wind, and ice pressed in around him, red, yellow, and blue--  
  
Cyrus threw them back with a wave of force. Darkness surged around him, wreathed in wind, glowing embers, and creeping skeins of frost.  
  
**_“HUBRIS!”_** Cyrus raged. He locked eyes with Lily across the room. _“You!”_ _  
__  
_ A tendril of darkness slapped Lily’s cryo rifle from her hands before wrapping around her like a vice. Cyrus clenched his fist, seething, his rings shining with magic upon his fingers.  
  
Lily wriggled one of her arms free. Darkness pressed in around her, crushing her in its grip. She felt the air get forced out of her lungs, felt her ribs straining, about to crack--  
  
\--and she felt her derringer as it slipped down her sleeve and into her grasp.  
  
Lily took her shot.  
  
Cyrus’ rings exploded in a spray of shrapnel and volatile magic. Ribbons of color shivered up his arm.  
  
Aabha unleashed a wave of fire, crying out in righteous fury. The shadows gathered to Cyrus like a cloak, eager to defend their master. They burned, crisping away like paper, Cyrus’ defenses melting away into ashes and embers. He emerged from the dome of shadows with wild desperation in his eyes and the gleaming obsidian of a ritual knife in his hands.  
  
Aabha gasped, watching the knife come flashing down.  
  
It shattered against Kit’s sword. Kit spun into the blow, and plunged her dagger into Cyrus’ throat.  
  
Cyrus went stiff, gagging on the blade and his own blood, clutching at his throat with pale fingers still covered in burns and broken rings. Below him, cast in the light of Aabha’s flames, his unearthly shadow shrank, bleeding power, until it was merely the shadow of a man.  
  
Kit tore out Cyrus’ throat in a horrific spray of blood. He fell to the ground behind her, gurgled, and was still.  
  
Kit stood there, panting, blood dripping from her weapons. She looked up, and met Aabha’s eyes.  
  
Kit threw her weapons aside, and dove into Aabha’s arms. Aabha caught her with a strangled sob, burying Kit’s head in her chest. She saw Lily hesitating in her peripheral vision. Aabha’s hand darted out and pulled her in, too, and the three of them held each other, sinking to their knees in exhaustion and relief.  
  
Robyn burst into the car with the rest of the team, guns drawn. She stopped short at the sight of the three girls, crying, laughing, murmuring to each other. Robyn blew out a sigh, and holstered her pistols.  
  
_“Sparrow to away team. What is your status?”_  
  
Robyn smiled, reaching up to her earpiece.  
  
“It’s me, Morgan,” Robyn said softly. “We’ve got her.”  
  
A pause, and what might have been a sniffle.  
  
_“Acknowledged. Stand by for extraction.”_  
  
There was a flash of frosty blue light, and a shadow swept over the group. Aabha looked up, before she, Kit and Lily were all swept up into Yuna’s arms with squeals of surprise and delight.  
  
“Group hug!” Yuna announced, in the shining splendor of her full dragon form.  
  
She gathered the team to her chest, and beat her mighty wings. She burst through the roof of the train as if it were made of tinfoil, her pure white scales glinting in the night sky. _  
_  
The Sparrow flew in low, just above the magrail, and the open doors of the cargo bay swallowed them all up.  
  
~*~  
  
_“So, you were unable to discern the location of the Blood Pact facility?”_  
  
“No ma’am,” Robyn said, standing in the control room with her hands formally clasped behind her back. “My guess is that the train would have brought them to a rendezvous point, and they would have taken different transport from there.”  
  
_“Pity,”_ Cassie sighed. Her eyes twinkled. _“...But you were able to recover Junior Puri?”_  
  
Robyn glanced beside her. Aabha stepped forward into projection range, offering a meek smile.  
  
_“Thank goodness,”_ Cassie smiled, warmer than Aabha had ever seen her. _“And with nothing but volunteers, too. You have yourself quite a crew, captain.”_ _  
_  
“Thank you, commander.”  
  
_“One more thing,”_ Cassie said. _“You said Junior Sato killed the Blood Pact sorcerer Cyrus, correct?”_ _  
_  
“Somehow, ‘killed’ doesn’t quite say it,” Lily mused. Kit socked her in the arm, grinning.  
  
_“What of the other one?”_ Cassie inquired. _“What happened to Exchange Overseer Harken?”_ _  
__  
_ “He’s dead, or as good as,” Robyn reported. “I, uh… may have lost my temper and kneecapped him. Twice. He won’t last long, even if the Exchange comes looking for their missing train.”  
  
_“First the Syndicate, now the Exchange and the Blood Pact…”_ Cassie murmured, counting them off on her fingers. She sighed, looking at Aabha. _“...I am glad that you’re safe, Junior Puri. Truly. But I fear we may regret this confrontation in the future. You are making some dangerous enemies.”_  
  
“Don’t worry, commander,” Aabha smiled. She took Kit and Lily’s hands, and squeezed. “I have some pretty dangerous friends.”  
  
_“Indeed,”_ Cassie smiled. _“Well, you and your friends have more than earned some time off. **Without** interference from crime lords. Captain, bring your crew back to Allied space so you can all take a proper vacation. I’ll contact you when I have your next assignment. Until then, Captain Weiss.”_  
  
Robyn nodded. “Commander Vega.”  
  
_“You’re dismissed. Good work out there,”_ Cassie said. _“Ah. Agent Crane?”_  
  
Crane stopped, as the others filed out of the control room. “Yes?”  
  
_“A word.”_  
  
~*~  
  
Aabha stepped out into the hall, where Morgan and Syl were waiting for her. She met their eyes, her heart swelling with affection. She instinctively reached for the charm around her neck, only to gasp, patting herself down.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Morgan wondered.  
  
“Your charm,” Aabha said, feeling around her collar. She pulled out a length of braided leather cord, split down the middle, the glass vial missing.  
  
“I- I’m sorry,” Aabha stammered. “I must have lost it in the fight. I know how much it meant to you.”  
  
Morgan blinked. He laughed, shaking his head.  
  
“It’s just water,” he shrugged.  
  
Aabha darted forward and wrapped Morgan in a hug. Morgan paused, caught off-guard, before gently clapping a hand against Aabha’s back.  
  
“Welcome back, Aabha,” Morgan murmured.  
  
“It’s good to _be_ back,” Aabha beamed. She stepped back, sheepish. “...Sir.”  
  
Aabha nodded to Morgan and Syl in turn, before whirling on her heels and scurrying away. Morgan watched her go, wiping his eyes.  
  
“Are you crying?” Syl teased.  
  
“Hush,” Morgan said. “She was hugging my cracked ribs.”  
  
Crane emerged from the control room, sliding the door shut behind her. She hesitated, before approaching the twins, not quite able to meet their eyes.  
  
“You didn’t tell us,” Syl began, wary. “About the mindlock.”  
  
“I couldn’t,” Crane said, fidgeting. “Client confidentiality, you know.”  
  
Syl breathed out through her nose. “...Just… tell me that her mother didn’t force her to do it.”  
  
“No! No,” Crane said quickly. “It wasn’t like that, I swear. She came to us. She wanted to forget. After what happened… well. I would’ve wanted a clean slate, too.”  
  
Morgan nodded. A quiet moment passed between the three of them.  
  
“So,” Morgan began, “what happens now?”  
  
“Well,” Crane said, “we’ve gotten all the intel we could out of Delilah Chase. Commander Vega has seen fit to release her from the custody of Order Intelligence. She’s free to go wherever she wants. Although, that being said, I doubt she’ll want to go very far. She’s a freelancer, now. Just like her sister.”  
  
“And you?” Syl asked quietly. “Will you stick around this time, too?”  
  
Crane winced at her phrasing, but nodded. “...Yes. I think I will.”  
  
“...Good,” Syl smiled. She leaned over, bumping an elbow against Crane’s. “Although… we’re already packed pretty tight as it is. The captain might need some time to move stuff around and give you a proper room. Until then, you might have to sleep on the couch.”  
  
“Oh, come on, she can room with us,” Morgan said. “I’ll sleep on the floor! I don’t mind.”  
  
"Oh, good." Crane rolled her eyes with the utmost fondness. “It'll be freshman year all over again...”  
  
~*~  
  
Kit sighed, watching the eerie ghost-lights of hyperspace fly past her window. In the end, her night didn’t go quite as she had planned. They did kick Cyrus’ teeth in, figuratively, if not literally, and they did bust Aabha out of his clutches. Unfortunately, with their haste to leave Hypnos and any possible Exchange reprisals behind, they did _not_ get to go to that buffet on 23rd Street and eat until they wanted to die, nor did they get to go to karaoke after.  
  
Instead, she spent hours in her cabin with Aabha and the Chase sisters, listening to Aabha tell her whole life story. Aabha blurted out every detail she could, going on tangents and looping back around when she remembered something new, sifting through her unsealed memories. There was a quiet urgency to her voice, as if she was afraid that at any moment, her memories would vanish back into the fog.  
  
“I had a temper, when I was a kid,” Aabha murmured, laying in bed with Kit’s arm around her waist. “I would get into fights, all the time. It would start out righteous-- like I was a hero, standing up to bullies. But it wouldn’t stop there. I’d keep going, until I could smell blood in the air. I didn’t know what it was at the time.”  
  
Aabha took a deep breath, and sighed.  
  
“It became obvious, when I was sixteen. Amalia…”  
  
Kit tensed. Aabha took her hand and squeezed.  
  
“We were young, and stupid. We got caught. My mom was furious. My dad was… useless. She screamed at her, called her terrible things. She grabbed Amalia by the hair, and I just-- I saw red. I lost control.”  
  
Lily nodded in somber sympathy. Kit nuzzled her cheek into Aabha’s shoulder.  
  
“After the… the Fire,” Aabha continued, “things got complicated. There was no hiding it, anymore. I was an unregistered Mage. I put Amalia and my mom in the hospital. Amalia’s parents pressed charges. The Order got involved. Amalia was afraid that they’d send me to jail. She didn’t know if we would see each other again.”  
  
Aabha took a shuddering breath.  
  
“...She said it might be better if I just… forget about her. But how could I forget? It hurt. It hurt too much for me to go on. Some people, they can be motivated by spite, by anger. Bad things happen, and they push forward to make them right. But not me. I wasn’t… strong enough.  
  
“I went to the Order Academy on Providence. I tried to move on. But I couldn’t. I kept losing my temper, getting into fights. My anger, and my powers, were out of control. That’s when I had the procedure done. Agent Crane sealed my memories of Amalia, my mom, and the truth of my powers, away. By the time I finished my certification, I thought I was just an ordinary fire mage. I wasn’t a girl with anger issues, with rakshasa in her blood, and a fucked-up relationship with her mother. I was just another Order Initiate on Providence, with a single dad, ready to get out there and save the world.”  
  
“What happened to her?” Lila asked softly.  
  
“I don’t know,” Aabha’s voice cracked. Kit squeezed her tighter, and she reached up and wiped her eyes. “It’s been almost ten years. She survived the fire, I know that for sure. But after that…”  
  
The quiet in the room became oppressive. Kit took a deep breath, before sitting up and clapping a hand on Aabha’s shoulder.  
  
“Lila,” she declared, nodding at Lily across the room. “We need to tell you a story.”  
  
“Oh! The rescue!” Lila’s eyes lit up. “Tell me about it! Let me guess, Lily did all the work.”  
  
“I _was_ pretty amazing…” Lily grinned.  
  
Kit huffed. “Uh, _we_ were amazing, you mean.”  
  
“They were,” Aabha said, smiling through her tears. “They really were.”  
  
“You know it!” Kit beamed. She sat forward, and Lila scooted forward in her seat, starry-eyed. “Okay, so we gotta bust onto this train, right? And the Chief, Shanti, she set up this big-ass lightning bomb to stop that train right in its tracks--”  
  
Lily cut in, grinning from ear to ear. “So we’re waiting there, hanging under the bridge like some _Mission: Impossible_ shit…”  
  
“Vincent slaps a bomb on the door! BOOM! We’re in there! Guns blazing!”  
  
“There are, like, a _hundred_ of these security mechs shooting at us…”  
  
“There are lasers everywhere, but then Jaki casts this spell that sucks all the enemy fire into, like, a black hole--”  
  
“What?!” Lila squealed, clapping her hands down on her knees. “No way!”  
  
“Oh, yeah!” Kit crowed, her arm around Aabha’s waist. “Lily and I were leading the charge! The two of us, baby!”  
  
“Yeah! The two of us! Well, mostly me…”  
  
A pillow thwacked Lily in the face. She squeaked in indignation before Kit dove onto her and they started wrestling like a bunch of kids. They tumbled onto the floor with a loud thunk.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
“I’m sorry!” Lily cackled, a hand over her mouth.  
  
“You’re laughing at me? You’re gonna laugh at me?!” Kit yelled, indignant, but there was a smile in her eyes.  
  
Lily laughed. Kit pounced on her. Lila shrieked and ducked as a pillow smacked into the wall behind her head.  
  
Aabha watched, with a warmth in her veins that had nothing to do with demons. Kit’s hand darted out and grabbed her, and Aabha squealed in unmasked adoration as she descended, cackling, into the warm tangle below.  
  
~*~  
  
Black smoke rose from the smouldering ruin of Harken’s private train, the tracks gouged and pitted. Kresnik picked his way through the wreckage, and the clouds of ash and embers, a spot of off-white amid the charcoal gray. He stopped above Cyrus’ body, a satisfied smile creasing his lips.  
  
“They got you, you sick fuck,” he grinned. “Good for them.”  
  
He crouched his armored bulk down on the decking and laid out Cyrus’ body with his arms crossed over his chest. Cyrus’ head flopped awkwardly on his shoulders, nearly severed by the force of Kit’s coup de grace. Kresnik took a device from his belt and pulled it in two, placing one end at Cyrus’ feet and the other above his head. With a press of a button, a force field crackled into place around Cyrus’ body. He hovered up to around waist-height, and Kresnik pushed him around on the anti-grav field like a body on a stretcher.  
  
A few cars down, Kresnik stopped in a still-smouldering hatchway and grinned.  
  
“Oh, Harken buddy, you look just _terrible_ ,” he jeered.  
  
Harken glared at him, in too much pain to even speak. Kresnik patted Cyrus’ sealed chamber.  
  
“You wouldn’t _believe_ the prices some people would pay to see a creep like this bite the dust. I’m gonna hold on to this guy, if you don’t mind,” Kresnik said jovially. “Call him a, uh... what’s it called? Severance package. Oh, by the way, I quit. Think I’ll try my hand freelancing again. Don’t wanna get too tied down. Nothing personal. You understand.”  
  
Harken opened and closed his mouth. No sound came out. Kresnik whistled and went on his way, leaving Harken’s ruined form in the rubble. He didn’t think to question why Cyrus’ body cast no shadow. No shadow at all.  
  
Harken’s body seized, then went still.  
  
Hours passed. Gray twilight bloomed into vibrant color, into sunrise, into dawn. And as the sun rose over Hypnos and the desert gleamed with light, Harken’s body cast two shadows, one hidden within the first.  
  
Harken sat up, with legs that should not have carried his weight, inky darkness swirling within his obliterated knees. He took a deep breath and sighed, exhaling a cloud of black smoke. He blinked in the garish light of Hypnos’ sun.   
  
There was something wrong with his eyes. Aside from the pupil, they were red.  
  
All red, without a hint of white showing.  
  
**_“The Project will continue,”_** the daemon said, with Harken’s mouth. **_“We will find another way.”  
  
_** ~*~


End file.
